Good Night Eileen
by Freedom Rhodes
Summary: Oz receives some unwanted attention of the supernatural kind while on the road.
1. Part 1

"Hey, can I get you anything?" the waitress looked down and tapped her foot impatiently.  
  
Oz was sitting at one of the last tables in the furthest corner and it was the first piece of luck he could consider receiving in a long time. Counting one's blessings had become exceedingly difficult lately. "A bottle of Keith's."  
  
She nodded and picked up a few more orders on her way to the bar. Oz watched her progress without much interest. He had been driving for days and this was where he had run out of gas. That was the sort of game he liked to play. Drive until the van dropped from lack of gas and work for a couple of weeks to finance the next batch of connecting highways. Usually the driving coincided with the need to clear his head of disturbing thoughts and nothing did the trick like rolling asphalt.  
  
The waitress placed the beer on the table and Oz handed her the blue bill, which he had only recently stopped thinking of it as Monopoly money, and received his handful of change.  
  
"Hey mister, you got a light?"  
  
When the waitress turned away, he noticed the girl looking at him expectantly. Actually, she looked like she was the same age as him, dressed in black with minimal make-up, long black hair. Not the usual barfly fair. He nodded and produced the lighter from his pocket, handing it to her. She pulled the chair opposite to him out and sat down.  
  
"Hey mister, you got a smoke?"  
  
"I don't smoke," Oz said, shaking his head.  
  
She smiled, "Neither do I but it's a bar and it seemed like a good enough opening to take your other seat. that is, unless you were holding it for someone?" When he didn't answer right away, she cut in. "You don't have to answer that one either. I knew that you weren't waiting for anyone. You've got that look and don't even glance at the door when it opens like you should if you were waiting for someone."  
  
Oz did a quick glance around, slightly worried that some Initiative-like organization had actually caught up with him, no matter how improbable. "What do you want?" he whispered to her with an edge of a growl.  
  
"Hey?! Don't worry, Sport, your honor is safe with me. I just want the seat." She gestured toward the other tables with a light flick of the wrist. "As you can see, all the other tables are full and this is the best seat in the house for seeing the stage. I just come to hear the band and then leave."  
  
"Oh," he took a drink and looked down at his hands.  
  
Sighing, she stood up and handed him his lighter back. "Look, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, I'll leave and you can be alone. I hope you enjoy the show."  
  
Oz reached up and grabbed her hand instead of just the lighter. "Stay," he was looking at her face for the first time for more than two seconds. She looked like someone he should know but her skin was too pale to be from Southern California. The straight long black hair that fell to her back didn't seem to fit either.  
  
She cocked an eyebrow and said in a teasing voice, "Are you sure? I wouldn't want to impose on some major brooding time. I know how important it can be to some guys." He just shrugged his shoulder in answer as she sat back down and extracted her hand from his. Signaling to the waitress, she ordered the same drink Oz had.  
  
Oz was looking at his beer, not knowing what to say to the person sitting across from himself. He sneaked a peak and she was staring intently at the guys on the stage as they were putting the finishing touches on their equipment. She looked back from the stage almost wistfully and caught his eye. "The name is Neria. What's yours?"  
  
"Oz."  
  
"Like the wizard?" He looked up and opened his mouth to explain but noticed the mocking glint in Neria's eyes.  
  
"Yeah, Frank and I go way back."  
  
Neria smirked, liking his willingness to play along. "The next time I see the Baum-man, I'll check to see if he remembers you." She cocked her head, taking in his appearance. "You just passin' through?"  
  
Oz just shrugged his shoulders, not really wanting to get into it. He had had this conversation way too many times. Each time, you either told them something slightly fictional or was just plain rude. He felt too tired to do either so decided to change the subject all together. "What do you do?"  
  
"I work for Satan. The hours are terrible but the benefits package is phenomenal." She said as the band had finally decided that they would be as ready as they were ever going to be. Neria leaned over and the music began to play, "Keep your eye on the guitarist, he's really good."  
  
Oz watched the band put everything they had into each song, admittedly not their own songs, but the crowd was really appreciative. The whole scene reminded him of the Bronze, down to the college/high school crowd and the slight stench of vomit. Devon was the only person from Sunnydale that seemed to comprehend he still existed. Now and then, Devon would email and would routinely finish every letter with the question on when he was going to come back home. Oz never answered that one but would send whatever new song he wrote to keep in Devon's good graces.  
  
Neria was staring intently at the stage and lightly drumming along with the music. She had a ring on her left hand and it reflected a small ray of light Oz couldn't guess its origin since the bar was so dark. It was a solid gold band with a symbol of some sort, something he knew he had seen before. But her hand kept drumming up and down and he couldn't get a fix on the engraving and now it seemed to be moving faster. Oz wanted to look away but it seemed important to figure out what was on the ring. He was so focused on the little piece of gold, the music, the people, had turned into flecks of white noise, buzzing in the background. He tried to reach a hand to stop the ring from moving but he was paralyzed, watching it zoom back and forth in front of his eyes.  
  
"Oz? Oz!" Neria snapped her fingers in front of his face a couple of times.  
  
"Wh-what?" Oz said, snapping his eyes open, feeling disoriented.  
  
"You okay?" Neria asked with a concerned look on her face. "You were really out of it for a minute there."  
  
"Yeah, okay." Oz mumbled looking around. The bar was still dark but the band had stopped playing. "Show over?"  
  
"Intermission. So what do you think of them? They seem really jazzed tonight." She asked conversationally, dismissing his spaced out moment.  
  
"Good. The crowd seems to be in the column of 'like'."  
  
"Yeah, Good Night Eileen is a local favorite. They've only been together for about a year but I try not to miss a show. The lead singer is a buddy from work."  
  
"You both work for Satan?" Oz said with the raise of an eyebrow.  
  
"Well, he's in management so singing the 'Devil's music' helps to keep his edge."  
  
Oz only nodded in response, smiling politely. "You don't believe, do you?" Neria said, challenging him. "Do you want me to prove it?"  
  
Oz's only response was a shrug. She reached into the back pocket of her jeans and pulled out a deck of cards. "You always carry cards there?" Oz asked.  
  
"Hey, you never know when they are going to come in handy." Neria replied with a quick smile, handing him the deck after she and given it a quick shuffle. "Please examine the cards so that you know that this isn't a trick deck."  
  
"Looks fine." He said after a rapid scan through the deck, noting that all the suits seemed to be equally represented. He handed them back and she placed them on the table in front of him.  
  
"Cut the deck in two. What's the card?" Oz looked and showed Neria, "The ace of spades, cool. Place that deck beside the other one and cut the deck again. What's the card?"  
  
"The. ace of spades." Oz said slowly, trying to figure out the trick.  
  
"Do it again."  
  
Oz repeated the same steps again, and again, and still the top card he cut was always the ace of spades. "I would have noticed six ace of spades in that deck. I don't get it."  
  
Neria held up a finger and placed all six piles into one deck of cards again. She quickly shuffled and fanned the cards out in front of Oz.. All fifty-two cards were now jokers, not an ace of spades to be seen. Neria smiled and gave a little chuckle at the look on his face.  
  
"What does this prove exactly?"  
  
"Besides the fact that I love parlor tricks? Not much, but -" she paused as some empty bottles on a nearby table tumbled off and broke with a loud crash when they hit the floor. "Do you mind if we go someplace more quiet so I can do this right?"  
  
"Do wha--?" The bar, the patrons, the music, instantly faded into nothingness and they were surrounded by a big, black void. The table was still between them and the same seats were under them but it was as if the rest of the world fell away. "How?"  
  
Neria gave him a reassuring look, and said in her most assuring voice, "Don't worry, it's all still there. We just have to focus on the topic at hand. All that noise, people, it makes it difficult for me to get into my sales pitch. You see, I want to buy your soul. What do you think about that?"  
  
"I think I'm putting a stop to this here and now." Oz quickly stood up and started walking into the void hopefully in the direction of the door. He didn't get too far when the floor ceased to exist below his feet and he instantly started to fall into the inky black nothingness. Oz screamed as he was free falling without a parachute. He didn't know which direction was up and without a visual reference, he couldn't tell how fast he was falling. His only indication was the wind whipping around his body. The back of his mind was quickly calculating the distance he had fallen in relation to the length of time he had been in free fall.  
  
Oz felt a jolt and opened his eyes to find himself back into the chair across from Neria, grasping for breath and hands firmly attached to the table in front of him.  
  
"It's okay, you can thank me later. I really should have warned you about the drop off there."  
  
"But you said-"  
  
"The bar is still there, I just didn't tell you where we are." She folded her hands in front of her and looked serenely at home. Neria was about to go on when an errant thought came to mind. "And no, this isn't the Matrix. Just because a movie makes over hundred million at the box office, doesn't make it gospel."  
  
"What about Star Wars?"  
  
She leaned forward, "I'll give you episode four and five but don't get me started on the others." Neria slowly leaned back, looking at him slyly. "You are trying to distract me and interesting choice, I could talk about movies all night. But intermission can only last so long. So what will it be? Money, fame, a shiny new car? I've got deadlines to meet."  
  
Oz seemed to take the whole experience in stride, his breath evening out. This place was starting to feel a little like Sunnydale except with a lot more snow. A small voice in the back of his head chanted a calming mantra, 'I've dealt with weirder. I've dealt with weirder. I've dealt with weirder.'  
  
"I'm just a quota to you, aren't I?"  
  
"What are you talking about, baby? All my customers are special to me." Neria put her best car salesman pitch in her voice.  
  
He didn't answer, hoping she would quickly get bored and start hassling someone else.  
  
She giggled at his stoic face, knowing this guy would be a tough nut to crack. "Listen, I'm just good at spotting people who are looking for something and I can get you that something."  
  
Neria tilted her head to one side trying to read what that was. "I feel that you're an artist. Poet or perhaps writer. I can get your books published or that record deal you have always wanted. Perhaps the ability to play like Hendrix, loved like Elvis. Am I close?"  
  
"Those are all nice, if not disturbing, options but I'm not selling you my soul."  
  
"Oh, Oz, just think of all the good you can do if you were a millionaire. Help the needy, toys for tots, humanization training for yuppies. You name it, you could do it." Neria watched as he continued to shake his head in disagreement and she smiled her most achingly innocent smile.  
  
She knew what he wanted long before she snagged the chair from his table or even walked into the bar. It was the only constant thing that had been on his mind while he was sitting across from her and every mile of his cross- country trek. That thing was a little red headed girl named Willow Rosenberg.  
  
And before this night was through, Neria would bring those two together. It never helped a girl's cause to act too eager.  
  
"Oh, oh, I know! Dirt bike racing! You could be killer on the motor-cross circuit." She still didn't receive any verbal response. "Horticulture?"  
  
End of Part One 


	2. Part 2

Part Two  
  
"Star of 'Dawson's Creek'?" Neria asked hopefully.  
  
"And rob the world of those Van Der Beek soulful moments?" Typically, that was Oz's usual answer to each of her suggestions. Granted, she was just playing with him but something should have rung a little tempting. The power of a genie wouldn't work because Oz wasn't fond of the lamp-sized accommodations. Bill Gate's money was of no interest because he didn't respect the Windows operating system. He said a quick no to becoming Russell Crowe cause Meg Ryan scared him, just a little bit.  
  
Neria sat with her fingers folded in front of her face with a look of powerful meditation, watching him remove, slowly, piece by extremely small piece, the label from the bottle that had been long empty. It was getting a little annoying. She reached forward and snatched the bottle from his hands, throwing it over the side of the table. Instead of the expected 'bottle hitting the floor' clamor, Oz received the unexpected boom of nothingness. That, in turn, irritated Oz, a reminder that he wasn't in control of this situation.  
  
"If you don't give me something to work with, we will have to go to Phase Two."  
  
"If it involves whips and chains, count me in."  
  
Neria smiled a secret little smile, "Ask and ye shall receive. Just give me a few minutes to pick up some leather."  
  
The table in front of the guitarist quickly dissolved into nothingness and once again, he was transported someplace else, someplace so familiar the knowledge of his location came to him in an instant. Considering the amount of time he had spent in places just like this with Willow, Oz could recognize a Sunnydale cemetery at fifty paces. The perfect grass, the atypical headstones artistically aligned, the habitual smell of newly broken earth, this was definitely one of the many cemeteries found in the lovely picturesque town. As long as your idea of picturesque was demon infested, but otherwise it was a charming town.  
  
He had been deposited on top of one of the headstones, its height just tall enough to keep his feet from touching the ground. Oz swiftly jumped off, brushed the nonexistent dust from his jeans and glanced around for the cruise director of this wacky ride. Neria was perched, yoga style and betraying a few laws of gravity, on a nearby tombstone looking at peace with the world, universe, and everything contained within it. Her black hair reflected the moonlight of the half full moon, her skin glowing despite her dark surroundings. She was still wearing the same black pants and shirt she had on when she approached him in the bar.  
  
"Why?" Oz asked breaking her mediation.  
  
"Cause leather does nothing for these hips." Neria opened one eye, reading the face that was standing directly in front of her.  
  
He sighed and brought his eyebrows together in frustration. He knew that she knew what he meant but asked the question again anyway. "Why Sunnydale?"  
  
"Where else? Sunnydale is the center of your pain. This is where you were wounded and won't let yourself heal. It is like you have a rubber band attached to your heart and no matter where you go, sooner or later, you will get snapped back."  
  
"Is this my rubber band moment?" Oz said in a dry tone.  
  
She sighed and looked him straight in the eye, "What made you an excellent target is located in Sunnydale and I'm surprised some other demon didn't try to recruit you for their team."  
  
"Get this over with." Oz was feeling agitated, claustrophobic, as if a warm clammy hand was gripping the back of his neck and wouldn't let go. Or perhaps there really was a rubber band but it was attached like a noose around the neck.  
  
Neria leaned forward but still remained perfectly balanced on her perch, her voice was deathly calm. "Just tell me what you want, Oz."  
  
"I want to have never met you."  
  
"Why? So you can keep up your nomadic lifestyle? This may just be the view from the cheap seats but it doesn't seem as cool as they advertise on the brochure."  
  
He shot a look at her that silently stated how he really felt about her little game. He started pacing before her, like a caged animal at a zoo, scratching the back of his collar.  
  
Neria decided to take some pity on him and get this show on the road. She stood up, unfolding herself delicately from her previous position. She grabbed him on his last paced circuit in front of her and took the chance to twine her arm around his. "Come on, we got some people to visit."  
  
Oz tensed and felt himself transported, yet again. He was starting to get used to it. This time, he found himself in the middle of the Dingo's living room. It looked the same, a little worse for wear and the same yard sale treasures furnished the room with an air of party-durable. The spawn of Satan moved to take a seat on the arm of an over stuffed armchair.  
  
"I don't care! I don't want to hear it!"  
  
Devon walked in with the other members of the band following close to his heels. He was looking for something under the sheets of newspapers littering the coffee table. "Oz is gone, man. When are you going to wake up and realize this?"  
  
Devon halted briefly in his hunt and turned, "No he is not. End of discussion."  
  
The drummer took up the cause, "Oz is gone and he is never coming back. Those songs he's sending are just guilt tokens and we need a guitarist. The Bronze won't even book us anymore without one. They threatened to take back their money the last time."  
  
"We tried a temp, it didn't work."  
  
"You didn't give him a chance." He paused, scratching his chin stubble and suddenly couldn't look Devon in the face. "We need to start auditioning for a new guitarist or we walk."  
  
"Oh really." Devon returned to the search.  
  
"Is that all you have to say?"  
  
He didn't even want to think about what could mean for the Dingoes, let alone muster up a response. Devon wasn't finding what he was looking for on the coffee table so decided to try under the sofa.  
  
Neria cocked her head to one side, admiring how his pants seemed to nicely package Devon's rear assets. Oz gave her a stern look and asked, "Is this really happening?"  
  
"Yep. The rules state that I can't mess with any outsiders but I can annoy you all I want. Besides, the truth is so much more effective than any fairytale."  
  
Oz shook his head and returned his attention to the scene at hand. Devon finally hit pay dirt and found his car keys. "Well?" The drummer asked impatiently.  
  
Devon grabbed his leather jacket and started for the door, "Walk, I don't care. But we are not getting another guitarist for my band until Oz tells me himself he is out." His hand was on the doorknob before he looked back at them. "If anyone asks, I'm going to meet Nikki."  
  
"What if Kellie asks?"  
  
"Who's Kellie?"  
  
"That hot little chick you call your girlfriend."  
  
"Oh, yeah. Make something up." Devon walked out the door and to his car. The other band members went off in their own directions, feeling like nothing was accomplished from that little impromptu band meeting. They had fought about this before but this was the first time the threat of quitting entered into play. They had some thinking to do.  
  
Neria spoke softly, looking at Oz. "You know what I love most about guys? Their loyalty to their friends. It is almost unbreakable, beautiful to see. Tragic."  
  
He wouldn't meet her gaze, eyes staring out into the night of the dark window. "I never asked Devon to wait for me. Ever."  
  
She moved and stood close enough behind him to feel a faith heat radiating from his body. Still speaking softly, almost to herself, "Guys will remain loyal even if they know it is the worst possible decision imaginable."  
  
"I want to leave."  
  
"'Kay."  
  
Again they were transported but this time it was back to the cemetery. Sitting in front of Oz was the tombstone he never thought he would see; Tara Maclay. "What happened?"  
  
Neria moved from behind Oz to stand slightly to his right. "Stray bullet; she's in a better place now. It was all very moving. Emotional. Angsty. Slightly apocalyptic but then what isn't in Sunnydale?"  
  
He stepped forward and traced the carving on the tombstone with his fingers.. It didn't seem real.  
  
Neria waited patiently. "I figured this was something you needed to know about. It might help explain something later." Oz stood and glanced back at her, raising an eyebrow in question. "Besides, since I'm in town, I have an errand to run and it isn't far from here."  
  
They started walking up a gravel path. He remembered walking the same trail with Willow several times when they were trying to fill in as a slayer substitute that summer a lifetime ago. "How do you know Tara is in a better place?"  
  
"Company newsletter." Stopping in front of the most derelict crypt in the place, she grasped his arm and pulled him through the closed door.  
  
There, lying passed out, dead to the world, was Spike. The crypt reeked with alcohol and the floor was covered in empty blood bags and broken glass.  
  
"Aaahhh. did Spikey lose his honey-bunny?" Neria's face held a small smile as she took in Spike's pitiful appearance. As she walked around his still body, she noted the stained and ripped clothing. His hair had grown out and returned to its natural wavy golden state but it was matted and in need of a wash. Lightly placing three fingers on his forehead, she whispered a few quick words. A thin sheet of smoke gathered above Spike and some images started to flicker against it in time with his stream of consciousness. Even Oz could make out glimpses of Buffy's face and her body lying in rubble. Other images seemed filled with fire, hatred, fear but were rather fuzzy due to the amount of alcohol required to be consumed to make a vampire pass out, even for just a brief period of time.  
  
Neria waved her hand lightly above Spike's forehead and the picture show disappeared as fast as it appeared. Lacing her fingers together, she cracked her knuckles in a satisfied way and said, "Good to see things are right on schedule."  
  
"You killing him?" Oz scrunched his brow, still not sure why they were here.  
  
"Killing him?" Neria displayed a flash of uncertainty before hiding herself behind her usual mask of confident detachment. "Why that takes no skill at all. Let's just say that I'm a very sore loser and will do what it takes to win."  
  
She pulled any wrinkles out of her shirt and slowly moved to stand by her charge. "Don't worry about old William here, he entered into this contest freely, even if he may not remember doing so. Some ships take a little extra effort to get them turned onto the right course."  
  
Oz shrugged his shoulder, knowing that there was nothing he could to do help the vampire and not sure if he should anyway. When he left Sunnydale, Spike was one of the bad guys, someone he had held a crossbow against. The good guys didn't help the bad guys especially when the good guy had his own trouble to deal with at the moment. Not to mention Oz was sure his own classification as a "good guy" was in doubt.  
  
Neria shook her head, almost able to hear his thoughts. "Look, we can talk about Spike later. We have more interesting things to do tonight." She lightly touched his shoulder and they were transported to Buffy's house.  
  
Standing just inside the door, they could easily see what was going on around them. that is, if there had been anything going on. It was very quiet, still, everyone in their separate corners. Dawn was sitting at the dining table, working on homework, music blaring through headphones. "Do you remember her?" Neria asked cautiously.  
  
"Dawn? Buffy's sister?"  
  
Neria smiled and clapped him on the back. "Just checkin'." Those monks deserved a commendation.  
  
They both turned quickly when the door behind them opened and Xander and Buffy both walked in. Xander had changed. No longer the lanky, uncomfortable teenager, broad shoulders and conservatively dressed but not in a bad way. Oz noted that Buffy looked the same since Oz had seen her last. She was dressed as fashionable as ever yet comfortable incase of trouble. She also seemed older, adult, and Oz wondered, yet again, what he had missed.  
  
Neria seemed to take an interest in Xander, her eyes giving him more than the once over, "Yum, yum, yum."  
  
She followed close behind Buffy and Xander as they moved into the living room. Oz wasn't paying much attention to what they were talking about, taking stock of the changes to the furnishings and trying not to get too annoyed with Neria's interest in Xander.  
  
She swiftly darted in front of Xander and lightly placed a hand on his chest; he shivered a bit but didn't seem to notice. "Oooh. and a potential client."  
  
That snapped Oz's attention back to what was happening, Neria was giving him her patented wicked smile that broadcasted trouble. Moving faster than any human had any right to, he grabbed her forearm and moved them away from the couple.  
  
"Stay away from Xander," he growled through clenched teeth, emotion rolling off of him in waves. Neria cocked her head to one side as she let Oz drag her across the room. She could have stopped him if she wanted to but was more interested in watching Oz reaction.  
  
"Why do you care what I do with Xander?"  
  
Oz balled his fists in frustration, the beast was rattling against the cage. "He's my friend and I won't watch you hurt him."  
  
"But it will be okay to hurt him once you get back to your magic carpet ride and you won't have to see it? Are those the rules?" Neria challenged him, poking him in the chest. She liked this new side to Oz and closed the gap between them, whispering, "Will he be fair game then?"  
  
"No." Oz held his ground but some of the intensity was starting to drain away.  
  
"Why do you care now? You weren't there for Xander's disastrous non- wedding day, or when Joyce died, or even when Buffy died. Don't you think your friend might have needed you in the last three years?"  
  
Grinding his teeth and looking away, he didn't have an answer for her.  
  
"Buffy died?" Part of what she had said clicked in Oz's head, his eyes darting to locate her in the room. She looked real enough.  
  
"Well, this is Sunnydale. They really should just rename it 'Enterprise' but I'm sure there would be some kind of copyright issue with that."  
  
"How?"  
  
"A god from another dimension, a small 'g' god, wanted to go home. It used Dawn as a doorknocker, and didn't care if this world was destroyed in the process. Yet another one of those slightly apocalyptic Sunnydale moments."  
  
"No, how did she come back?"  
  
Neria smiled, happy to answer that question. "Here, let me show you." She said and bounded up the stairs with the glee of a child who couldn't contain the excitement of surprising you with a giant present.  
  
Oz glanced back to Xander and Buffy and only let his eyes follow Neria to the second floor. He knew that it would be a big mistake to see what was up there but if tonight's pattern held true, he wouldn't have much choice in the matter.  
  
End of Part Two 


	3. Part 3

Part Three  
  
Oz took the stairs as slowly as humanly possible. Granted he could have crawled or refused to leave the first floor but figured it wouldn't help to act childish about the whole thing. He had some pride.  
  
Neria was lounging against the wall filing her nails. If she was annoyed by the guitarist's slow progress, she didn't show it. This was the first time in ages she had had a few minutes to herself.  
  
"Are you a demon?"  
  
"What?!" she responded a little breathlessly. It wasn't often she was taken by surprise.  
  
"You said you worked for Satan. What are you?"  
  
Neria, not looking in his direction and taking a great interest into a pesky hangnail, choose her words carefully. "I was born human. And then I died. And then I became what you see." She tucked the nail file in a back pocket and defiantly folded her arms in front of herself. "Anything else you would like to know?"  
  
"Why work for Satan? You could be helping people."  
  
"I help people in my own special way. Why all the interest?"  
  
Oz shrugged his shoulders. "You just don't seem that evil."  
  
"Thanks for the job evaluation; that information will help us serve you better." Neria wrapped her arm around his shoulders and steered him towards the door of the room she wanted him to see.  
  
"That's Buffy's room?"  
  
"Ooohhh, realllly . . . . and how would a good boy like you know something like that? Hmmm?" her voice took on a new level of teasing, her smirk filling in the blanks of a story that never took place.  
  
Oz refused to take the bait. If he could resist Devon's constant requests for details on his sex life, he should find this a cake walk. A shrug was all she would get out of him.  
  
With a disappointed sigh, she pulled the guy through the door. The room was rather dark, lit by only a nearby street light. The walls were bare of any personal effects and only a large suitcase littered the floor. On the small bed at the end of the room, a small figure was curled up in a small ball, shivering and twitching because of some dream or nightmare. Even if Oz was blinded some freak occurrence, he would recognize her distinct smell. That scent made him feel like he had come home. Come home to Willow.  
  
"You don't seem all the surprised to see her?"  
  
"Surprised you didn't drag me here first."  
  
Neria gave that smug grin again, "Hey, I don't tell you how to play guitar, you don't question the master. It is all part of the grand plan."  
  
Willow let a little whimper and rolled onto her back, displaying the bandages on her abdomen. They were turning pink where some blood had started to seep through and Oz approached the bed to get a better look. He frowned, feeling strongly helpless.  
  
Neria stayed at the foot of the bed but made sure she kept a good view of her charges' face. First lesson learned in this business was 'Always watch the face.' It was the easiest way to tell if you were making progress. "You can blame that on Gnarl, nasty little demon." She said and shivered.  
  
"Gnarl dead?" He hoarsely whispered, not able to look away and starting to feel the burning seed of hatred. If it wasn't dead, Oz was planning on using every ounce of the monster inside of him to hunt and kill whatever it was that dared hurt his Willow.  
  
"Yeah and good riddance, that creep really gave me the creeps."  
  
He looked up and had to raise an eyebrow at that. "Satan's Little Helper freaked out by a fellow evil doer?"  
  
She narrowed her eyes and looked genuinely insulted by that comparison. "Gnarl was a monster. It would take hours to peel stripes of skin from its victim's bodies, eat those pieces and then wash it down by licking up the blood. All the while with a running diatribe on how worthless of a person you are. If I was going to eat you, I would make sure you enjoyed it a whole lot more. Are we clear?"  
  
"Translucent."  
  
"Good."  
  
Oz's eyes were drawn back to the bed, surprised to see the changes time had left in Willow. They weren't big changes, little things most people would not be able to notice at first glance. But her face was burned into his memory and on more than a few lonely nights, her memory was his only companion. He knew it wasn't really the healthiest way to go through life but until he found an alternative, it was all he had.  
  
Superficially, he noticed that her hair was longer but that was hardly noteworthy. Even though asleep, Willow's body was tense and almost afraid to relax. Her mouth was drawn in a hard line and her eyes were bordered with faint worry lines. A light dabbling of perspiration dotted her brow but she shivered as if cold. Also, it looked as if she was suffering from a rather nasty nightmare.  
  
"What's wrong with her?"  
  
Neria sighed, feeling pity for the woman on the bed. "A number of factors, really. Monster feeding time for the bandages, black magic withdraw for the shakes, and the fear that her friends won't forgive her for the overall sense of apprehension. Not to mention that energy from the Hellmouth isn't helping to sooth her transition back from the edge. Sort of like setting a junkie into a heroine snow storm and asking him not to breathe."  
  
"That doesn't exactly explain what happened."  
  
"What do you want me to say? We could stand here forever and I could detail all the reasons why things turn out the way they do. But I won't 'cause it all comes back to the same thing, the Hellmouth. You know what it is like, evil will never stop coming and people get hurt. People will get hurt."  
  
"Willow?"  
  
"Who's to say? All I know is that some of the Sunnydale folks won't be around to see another green Christmas."  
  
Oz's imagination was uploading volumes of scenes into his mind, guesses on what had happened while he was gone and what might be yet to come. Some were somewhat close to reality and some were elements of his worst nightmares.  
  
"Say goodbye, time to go."  
  
He looked at Neria in surprise. They had only just gotten there and now they were leaving? He had told himself many times that Sunnydale was his past and he was in search of his future. That gave him the strength to keep going and resist the pull of this little town. What if the only future for him was in Sunnydale, with or without Willow by his side?  
  
"But-"  
  
"Sorry, time to fish or cut bait," her voice strong, knowing it would be hard pulling him away from Willow.  
  
She rolled her eyes at the stricken look on his face and felt herself weakening a little. "I'll give you a minute," she added and stepped away from the bed to give Oz a little privacy, feigning an interest in the books that lined the shelf.  
  
Oz knelt by the bed so he could be closer but not touching. He didn't want to pass through her like all the other solid objects he had been pulled through tonight. It was just another reminder of how disconnected from her he was.  
  
"I guess this isn't our blue-hair Istanbul moment, not even sure you can hear me." He whispered. "But if you ever need me for anything, to help you save the world or just play you a song, all you have to do is ask. I'll be there."  
  
Neria cleared her throat, signaling to him it was time to go.  
  
"Take care, Willow." He kissed the tips of two fingers and touched them lightly to her forehead. And then world was flipped upside down.  
  
Neria had turned back to the couple when she had heard him say goodbye. She could see him about to touch her forehead and knew in an instant that this was going to be bad. Instinctively, she tried to stop him from making contact but knew that there was no way she would make it in time.  
  
For one second, Oz was sitting by the bed and in the next, the last she saw of him was the bottoms of his sneakers as he was pulled inside Willow's mind. Neria's jaw nearly hit the floor and she was frozen in mid stride. Never in all her years, heck centuries, had she seen something like this. They were both in spiritual form so there wasn't anything tying him to this world. If she didn't do something soon, he could be lost in there for a long, long time. Panic was spreading through her and she knew that things had gotten very complicated, very fast.  
  
And to no one in particular, she swore. "Oh, balls!"  
  
End of Part Three [A/N: Sorry it is so short. Figured I had waited long enough and had to add something.] 


End file.
